When Words Started Playing Tricks on Me
I was brought up in an era when communication was fairly straightforward.
If you have to say anything to anyone you just spoke to them. If they didn ‘t live close you used the phone. A smile was happiness, a laugh meant it was funny, and if someone said they were ‘dead’ I took it for granted ‘something was not quite right’. Then came the mobile phone.
Then texting.
Then emojis.
And then, suddenly, the language I had believed in and been trained to uphold stared mutating beneath my feet.
Now my children and grandchildren can send me a message that is two or three words long, maybe an emoticon, and then a skull, fire, or goat, and I yet knowing what their message means.
I don't always.
Actually, quite often, I don't.
The issue doesn‘t seem to be that I can‘t understand english. I mean, I have been using computers and teaching about computers and technology for most of my career, and communicating with people from other cultures for a very long time.
The problem is that the same word can now have two completely different lives.
When I hear "beta," I think of the affectionate Indian word a parent uses for a son or a child.
When my grandson hears "beta," he may think of internet slang.
When someone tells me "No shot," my mind can wander towards vaccinations, travel requirements, and whether I need to call my doctor.
To the younger generation, it simply means "No way!"
And then there are emojis.
A simple smiley face with tears can mean That was hilarious.
A GOAT can mean Greatest Of All Time.
The funny thing is that my family usually understood the language perfectly.
I was the one who needed a translation. But if you're a grandfather who grew up believing that a fire means something is burning and a goat belongs in a field, things can become complicated rather quickly.
Some of these misunderstandings happened through text messages. Others happened during ordinary family conversations. A few had me checking travel guidelines, looking for fire extinguishers, or wondering why my grandchildren suddenly seemed to be discussing animals.

This book grew out of those moments.
It isn't a dictionary of emojis. It isn't a guide to Gen Z slang. And it certainly isn't an attempt to explain modern language to the younger generation.
It is simply my record of what happens when a grandfather, his children, and his grandchildren speak the same English—but don't always mean the same thing.
The tales in this book are true stories that are part of my family experience. I have slightly adjusted the wording in a few of the dialogues so they would seem more natural, but the reactions, the feelings and miscommunications have occurred in real family life.
I've also discovered that these moments work particularly well as comics.
Sometimes a picture of a confused grandfather staring at his phone says more than a whole paragraph can.
So throughout the book, you'll find our family avatars bringing these incidents to life. The stories tell you what happened; the comics let you see the confusion.
And there is something else I've learned along the way.
Language doesn't really belong to one generation.
It keeps moving.
My generation had its expressions. My children have theirs. My grandchildren have an entirely new vocabulary shaped by the internet, social media, memes, texting, and emojis.
Perhaps the best way to keep up isn't to complain that the language has changed.
Perhaps it's simply to ask:
"What does that mean?"
That's what I kept doing.
Usually, my family laughed first.
Then they explained.
And I learned something new.
So, if you've ever stared at a message from your child or grandchild and thought,
"What on earth does that mean?"
you're in the right place.
Welcome to my world of emojis, slang, misunderstandings, and family laughter.
And please remember:
Before you panic, ask what the emoji means.